There are two girls I know, for whom I would love to arrange a co-habitation weekend that would help them both tremendously.
One is all glitz and glamour, flash and pizzazz, death in high heels with a micro-mini, incredibly tight sweaters, immaculately blowdried and tinted hair, and enough makeup to make an SM Sta. Mesa saleslady pause and say, “Girl, you really need to wear less makeup.”
The other is frumpy and plain, the Filipino Susan Boyle, very reserved and withdrawn, never been kissed, never been touched, has never been in love with a buff, ripped, bearded, long-haired man besides Jesus Christ, and looks like she buys her pantsuits on sale at Elegant Lesbian.
I want them both to meet, hang out, share life philosophies and fashion advice.
Girl A could give Girl B a make-over.
Girl B could give Girl A a make-under.
Put the both of them together, and hope we can reap the fashion world’s equivalent of a zero-sum game, where we get the best of both worlds and the worst of none.
If I could pull this off, would it count as a good deed, or will I still go to hell for thinking such catty things about them?
